Thy Lips Are Warm
by paperbkryter
Summary: Chloe/Clark - Can Chloe find someone to save Clark? Or is this a job for Superman? The usual disclaimers apply of course.


Who did this to you?   
  
Who did this to us? I loved you with all my heart, all my being, and I could not tell you. Me? Speechless? Me? Without words? That's the power you held over me. All you had to do was walk into the same room with me and you rendered me helpless. Oh I talked, we talked a lot you and I, but those words were but a veneer to mask the ones I wanted to say to you.   
  
I love you. I want you. I need you.   
  
We could have been something, and now we can be nothing. There is no "we"; there is no "us".  
  
Only me - alone.   
  
You were so happy when they announced Romeo and Juliet would be this year's big production.  
  
Quaint.  
  
Disgusting!   
  
Everybody does that play! So what if Mr. Mickelson re-wrote it with a "modern twist" - been there, done that, brought home the t-shirt. Sanctimonious twit! Egotistical moron! I could have written a better version. Blah, blah, blah! If they had to do Shakespeare couldn't they have at least picked something more interesting? Twelfth Night, now that would have been fun.   
  
You'd still be here.   
  
Oh God it hurts.   
  
Of course SHE got picked to be Juliet. I tried out. Did you know that? No, I don't think you did. I got a little overzealous, as usual, and of course tried to rewrite my lines to my own satisfaction. Mickelson threw me out on my ear. Then SHE waltzes in, crinkles up her perfect little nose and smiles, and there wasn't a second thought as to who would be picked. Me, I'm delegated to the lighting crew. Yep, that's me, Chloe Sullivan - Changer of Lightbulbs - says so right on the program. My dad highlighted it.   
  
He means well. He's having a hard time dealing with a daughter who bursts into tears every five minutes. "Hi honey, how are you?" gets me every time. I can't stop crying. I can't. The ache in my chest just won't go away and my eyes are always burning.   
  
I miss you.   
  
I hate you.  
  
Why did you have to try out? Scratch that. I know why. Anything to get close to her. Anything to possibly steal a kiss from the Pom Pom Goddess. What did you ever see in her? I never understood it. Aside from the obviously critical levels of testosterone warping your otherwise brilliant mind, I just could not fathom the attraction. I can't believe you were so brainwashed.  
  
I can't believe you got the stinking lead! Romeo?  
  
Oh how I laughed! You only saw part of my giggling hysterics. You would have been mortified at what Pete and I said in the sanctuary of the lighting booth when we watched you rehearse. 'Tights!" I screeched. "Can you picture him in tights?" I thought Pete wet himself with that one. You got off easy buddy, since Mickelson re-wrote the play and threw out the period dress. You would have never lived it down. Pete and I would have been merciless. I would have loved to have seen you in tights.   
  
I'd give my life to see you in anything at all right now.   
  
Oh Whitney was so infuriated! You could see his little jockstrap pea brain processing the thought as he watched you kiss his girlfriend: "He's getting a little too into the role." It was written all over his face. He hated you. He wanted to punch you, and I loved watching him squirm as you declared your love for his woah-man. Talk about obscene levels of testosterone! I almost expected him to jump up on the seat of his chair, pound on his chest, and challenge you to a fight. I couldn't resist once. I leaned over to him and said, "Its only a play Whitney." He bared his fangs at me! I swear it to be true!   
  
He's a good guy though, and I think you always knew that despite what he did to you with the scarecrow thing. You certainly pulled his fat out of the fire enough times. He tried to help in the end. Were you aware of that? It was Whitney who got there first. He still blames himself, although he couldn't have done more than he did. He's pretty broken up too. So is she, and I find it horribly unfair that this has brought them closer together, when all you ever wanted was for them to be apart.   
  
Was that last kiss enough for you? Its more than I ever had. Sure, I kissed you once, but what good is it? I can't remember it. I wish I could. Its all I have left of you.   
  
Opening night. Full house. Mickelson - what an idiot. His head just got bigger under Kwan's over the top praise. Yeah, Kwan was just happy with the receipts and the fact the whole production was so far under budget. No costumes, just colored t-shirts to define the characters' houses, and jeans. "People should focus on the words and the acting, not the costumes." Not a bad philosophy, but stop pretending you came up the idea yourself Mickelson. I can't stand him. He's a K-Mart special of a drama teacher in a hick Kansas town. He needs to get with the program and get off himself.   
  
I have to give him credit for the costumes though, because the red he chose for the House Montague was definitely your color. You never looked more handsome, and the smile on your face as you met me at the stage door is something I'll never forget. I don't think I'd ever seen you as happy as you were that night. Was it the thrill of kissing your favorite girl once again, or the fact you would finally be in spotlight that made you so happy? No more skulking behind the scenes for you - it was your turn to shine.   
  
And you did. I know. I was there. I helped focus the spotlight upon you as you stood on stage and captivated them all with your presence alone. Shakespeare's words, however, coming from your throat - ah - sheer bliss! I never knew you could act, though I suppose it should not have come as a surprise. You were always an actor in real life. You kept so much of yourself shuttered away inside that I doubt anyone ever knew the real you.   
  
I like to think I came close.   
  
Was that the real you, there on the stage that night? Were you finally free to be you - unfettered from the darkness that always held you down? Sure, you were playing a part, but the look in your eyes as you moved across the stage was so - different. I was lost in you. I could not even feel jealous as you performed the balcony scene with HER, and held her in your arms as I had always longed to be held. You filled all my senses.   
  
And that made the pain more intense when it came.   
  
Did you have any warning?  
  
I think you may have felt something, and passed it off in the heat of the moment. I saw the barest flicker of something undefinable cross your face as you touched the vial, but you did not stop. Had you paused, given the bottle a closer look, would you have known? I don't know. I can only speculate now that it is all over.   
  
I shut my eyes and see it all again, and I beg you not to swallow, but you always do no matter how many times I replay the scene. "No!" I cry out in my memories and I cry out in my nightmares, but you never hear. You lift the little bottle to your lips and drink....  
  
"Oh true apothecary, thy drugs are quick."   
  
Horror and grief have forever etched that line into my mind - the line you never said - for yes, the poison was quick. I saw your throat work, swallowing what you believed was Kool-Aid brought in by one of the PTA mothers, and I saw the expression on your face as soon as it went down. I only got a glimpse before the pain brought you to your hands and knees. I had never seen such agony before, and I hope to God I never see it again.   
  
What went through your mind during those first few moments of awareness? Were you able to think at all beyond the pain? Did you understand that you were dying? My heart aches at the memory of your collapse, and I hear Juliet's cry as she realized you were no longer an actor, but a friend in trouble. Yeah, I know, I was never fond of her. Things change.   
  
From my seat behind the footlights I saw her face, and I knew she loved you too.   
  
I wonder now if you saw me as I cradled your head in my lap. Your eyes were open and I could see my reflection within them. My terror was clearly written upon my face as I felt your heart begin to falter and your skin grew cold beneath my fingertips. What was happening? I voiced it aloud, questioning anyone who would answer. No one did.   
  
To date no one knows but me.   
  
Whitney breathed for you when you could no longer do it yourself. Your father made your heart beat. I only watched you die. I saw the light in your eyes go out, and I knew you were gone. I think a little of me went with you.   
  
Sometimes, especially late at night, I wish all of me had gone with you.   
  
You hadn't lived enough. Its unfair.   
  
I want you back.   
  
They took away your ability to fight them, but they cannot take mine. I found the man who switched the bottles. I have seen the face of Death.  
  
You would have teased me: "Chloe's been digging again!"   
  
I found treasure this time.   
  
He's not the one who did this to you. He's only a pawn. This is big, bigger than anything we ever tackled together, and I am crippled by your absence and blinded by the pain of loss. I hope I can keep my cool and work this out.  
  
I have to have you back.   
  
I found where he was staying. I found his computer files.   
  
My GOD!   
  
The intricacies of the plan astounded me, once I convinced myself I was reading truth, not fiction. It was decades in the making! I realized this was more than you and I. Like I said, its big, very big, and I am not ashamed to admit I am scared.   
  
I told no one. What would I say? My crying jags and nightmares are worrying them now. She's lost it completely. Chloe is crazy with grief.Yeah, you could say I am. I am! I miss you! You don't know how much!   
  
I can hear you. Are you there? I hear you teasing me again.   
  
"How many cappachino's have you had today Chloe?"  
  
Two. Okay, three. I had to stay awake. I could not let your assassin get away from me. I read the file. I knew where he was going next, and I had to follow. If not for you I would have chickened out and turned tail like a yellow bellied coward. You gave me the courage.   
  
I had to go. I love you.  
  
It was awful. Stepping through the portal, I knew what you must have experienced when you passed the threshold of life unto death. I felt turned inside out and upside down, and for the longest time I had no idea whether or not I had died. I almost lost that last cappachino too. Are you laughing at me? Knock it off.   
  
I think perhaps if I had died, it wouldn't be too bad. Would you meet me at the door, and smile at me in the way that never failed to make me break into a silly smile myself?  
  
I'm crying.   
  
Hang on. I'm coming.   
  
I'm grateful for all the time spent on my computer, and all the little tricks you taught me. Hacking into the program was easier than I expected, but the language was so confusing I can only pray I made the correct changes. The man I tailed has gone, and the clock has started ticking. What is going to happen when he realizes he's not where he's supposed to be? What if I can't find what I'm looking for?   
  
Who I'm looking for.   
  
And what if even he can't help me?   
  
You are lost to me forever.   
  
No.   
  
I'm cold. You were the practical one, and if you were here you'd give me your jacket. By the way, I stole your jacket from the auditorium that night. I took it home. It smells of you. Its stained with tears because every night since you died I've cried myself to sleep on it. Pete asked me where it went and I lied. I think he knows anyway. He's taken this pretty hard himself.   
  
Your mom isn't doing very well I've heard. You probably know that though I guess. You can probably see her from wherever you are.   
  
Can you see me? Here? Even though I am displaced? God I hope so. I need to know I'm not alone. I'm scared. I'm really scared.   
  
Voices. Finally!   
  
There, talking quietly as they come around a corner; a man and a woman. I recognize them from the data in the file. I have a copy of the disk here with me, as well as what hard copy I was able to print before I had to leave.   
  
Will it be enough to convince him?  
  
I call his name. Not the name I know. The name from the file.   
  
I can only choke on the other.   
  
They stop as I come out of the alley. They're wary.   
  
His EYES!   
  
Help me. I can't speak. I have to speak! The words won't come out because I'm crying too hard.   
  
Help me!   
  
I hold out the disk and the file and my hands are shaking. She takes them from me and looks at them. He reads over her shoulder. The wind rifles his long hair; catches the edge of his cape. I can only stare with tears running down my face and sobs suffocating me.   
  
He looks up at me.   
  
My words come back, I'm afraid they make no sense: "He's already dead."  
  
You're dead.  
  
"Time is running out. You have to do something."  
  
You cannot be allowed to die. The consequences....  
  
Save us. Save yourself.  
  
His eyes widen. He knows its me.   
  
"Chloe?"   
  
My heart hurts. How I have longed to hear my name again!   
  
"Make everything right." I whisper. "You're the only one who can."  
  
Because I have to have you back. 


End file.
